


Matters Most Unfortunate

by kitkatkat



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Matchmaking, One-Sided Attraction, Regency
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:04:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3855037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkat/pseuds/kitkatkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to the quiet town of Kirkwall: a retreat for the wealthy and royalty of the Marches. When the handsome and mysterious Mister Fenris moves into the abandoned mansion next to the Amell estate he sparks a rivalry with the young Lady Marian which threatens to upset the delicate social climate of the town. Her mother and siblings attempt to reign in the fiery Lady Amell and keep the family clean of scandal. However, even as the residents of Kirkwall dance around each other and play at social niceties, something dark brews beneath the surface of their high society.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matters Most Unfortunate

The wheels of the carriage creaked and complained in a manner most worrying as the vehicle made its lumbering way along the road. Lady Cassandra Pentaghast grimaced at the heavy fog blanketing the world outside the carriage window, dismal and grim.

In days long past Kirkwall had been a thriving town. Recent events had conspired to destroy it, but hints of what it once was shone through the gloom that hung over the country town. The road that wound through the town center was paved with large flagstones, the material quarried in far Tevinter. The lamps they passed had not been lit, but they were decorated with finely crafted whorls of iron. The faces of the buildings were fine indeed, although not without signs of recent violence.

The windows of several storefronts had been shattered, leaving broken glass lay scattered across the pavestones. Many of the stores along the main street had been gutted by fire. Dark streaks of soot stained stone walls from where hungry fingers of fire had sought wood to burn. Boards closed off the entrances to the hollow shells. All this gave evidence of a great misfortune befalling the quiet town.

The carriage came to a stop outside of the only building in the square left standing: the local inn and tavern. Lady Cassandra went within and arranged for accommodations for the night. The inn was rather dirty, filthy, even, but she was far from home and did not have the luxury of other choices. The lady ordered food as well. Dinner consisted of a hunk of stale bread alongside a rather questionable stew she had been assured was of beef. Not long after she had taken her first bite, a stranger slipped into the seat across from her.

The man was of a friendly countenance with a wide grin hung beneath a twice-broken nose. He flashed her an amiable smile before introducing himself. His green and brown eyes twinkled with both good humor, and a healthy helping of poorly concealed mischief. His golden hair was tied back in a rakish queue, a few wayward strands falling into his eyes.

“Good evening, miss.” he spoke. Truly his voice was pleasant to the ears, and he spoke with a rhythm that implied a sense of comfortableness with speaking to strangers. “Varric Tethras, at your service. May I ask why a lady as fine as yourself has graced my humble establishment?’

Lady Cassandra blotted at her lips demurely with her napkin before answering. “I was returning home from the south. Surely you have heard of the terrible going ons along the coast.” She waited for the proprietor of the inn to nod his assent before continuing. “I had been staying with relations in Ostwick.Unfortunately, with the political climate being what it is, it was no longer safe for me to remain there. I have been travelling long and hard these past few days, and I am sorely tired. This inn seemed as good a spot as any to take rest for the evening.”

She hoped she had concealed her lie well enough. In truth it had been no coincidence that sent her through Kirkwall that night. Rather, she had been sent. Her employer had a vested interest in the war now raging in the south. The lady Pentaghast had been sent to investigate how everything had begun, determine what role the Amells had played in it all, and, if at all possible, ascertain what role the siblings may play in the future.

“I apologize for the sad state of the town, my lady. It cannot be to the standard to which you are accustomed.”

“That is quite alright, Mister Tethras. I find it much preferable to the hard ground or carriage bench. And I understand the misfortune that has befallen this town. This is where it all began, is it not? Did the Amells hail from here?”

“Aye, they did. Their estate was not a thirty minute carriage ride from here.”

“Were you well acquainted with the Amells?”

“Yes, my lady. Better than any.”

“Then, you know why they did what they did?” Lady Pentaghast leaned forward, unable to conceal her interest.

The man across from her sighed and pulled a hand across his face. Lady Cassandra expected to see fatigue or grief befall his features, but instead a smile bloomed in the wake of his hand’s passage. “I cannot pretend to understand the whys of events, my lady. I can only promise you a true tale most tragic.”

His smile was too sudden. It made her wary. Surely someone so willing to speak of the downfall of his friends was not to be trusted?

“It’s a long tale, to be sure, full of doomed love, petty slights, adventure and no small amount of scandal.”

“Adventure?” She was reluctant to report that her interest was piqued.

“Are midnight runaways and high-stakes duels adventurous enough for your tastes?”

It was most fortuitous, suspiciously so, that she should find a man so ready to help her complete her task. She dare not get her hopes up, and yet… “And you spoke of doomed love?”

“As well as forbidden.”

Lady Cassandra shifted in her seat at that, slipping her hands beneath her thighs in an attempt to contain her excitement. She forced an expression of cool nonchalance onto her features and adopted a blaise air. She could always decide if the tale was worth the telling once the man was finished spinning his yarn. “Fine, I shall listen to your tale.” Despite herself she leaned forward, eyes wide and ears waiting. “Tell me everything.”

The rogue offered her a dashing smile and leaned back in his seat. “You may wish to settle yourself more comfortably. This tale will not be over soon. For you to truly understand from whence our troubles came, we must look back to the day Mister Fenris de Conchis came to town…”


End file.
